


Out of the Cold

by Phoebonica



Series: Fluff Bingo prompts [1]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Animal Death, Animal Neglect, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff Bingo, Gen, adopting a pet, but only in backstory, spoilers for 'Ghost Stories'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 14:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20194018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoebonica/pseuds/Phoebonica
Summary: The day after the ghost story contest, an angel appeared to Carlos the scientist.Carlos and Cecil take in a lost soul. Written for the Fluff Bingo challenge on Tumblr.





	Out of the Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AtalantaPendragonne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtalantaPendragonne/gifts).

The day after the ghost story contest, an angel appeared to Carlos the scientist.

“Carlos!” proclaimed the angel. “I come bearing a message for you. There is a great purpose that you must fulfil.”

“Oh, hey, Erika,” Carlos said, glancing up from the equations he was scribbling on his whiteboard. “Can this wait? I promised Cecil I’d be home when he got out of work today – he’s going through some stuff right now, and I need to be there for him, you know? As important as science and angelic missions are, sometimes they’re not as important as supporting the people you love.”

“Oh – yeah, sure, whatever,” the angel said, in a much less dramatic tone. “I get that. We all heard the show yesterday.” They shifted uncomfortably, multiple eyes blinking. “There’s just something I need you to look into for me, when you get the chance.”

Carlos underlined a variable multiple times, frowned thoughtfully at it, then drew a circle round it. “What do you need?”

“Well, you deal with a lot of phenomena involving things that aren’t quite real, right? Things that shift in and out of existence, becoming more or less tangible?”

“Ye-es…?”

Erika hesitated. Carlos wasn’t always great at reading people, much less unearthly beings that you legally weren’t _ supposed _ to refer to as angels, but he thought they seemed embarrassed.

“Could you _ make _ something intangible? Specifically...” Erika took a deep breath, and let it out as a heavy sigh. “Cat food. I’m going to need a _ lot _ of intangible cat food.”

* * *

The skating rink at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex was nearly deserted when Carlos, Erika and Cecil arrived the next week. Carlos carried the prototype ghost kibble in an Erlenmeyer flask, holding it at arms’ length with curved metal tongs. Not that the intangible pellets were particularly dangerous, of course. It was just the scientific way to do things.

“Again, I like, totally appreciate this, you guys,” Erika said, as the three of them changed into their ice skates. (It wasn’t clear why Erika needed the skates, since they hovered at least six inches off the floor at all times.) “When I ascended, I thought I had left the old me behind, you know? Marcus is gone now. There’s only Erika. But I realise now that even though I’m Erika, I’m still the Erika who was Marcus. As long as his actions continue to have consequences, I’m the one responsible for them.”

“That’s a very mature realisation, Erika,” Carlos said, as they skated across the ice. “Good for you.”

“I mean, obviously, Marcus was a billionaire, so hardly any of his actions had consequences,” Erika continued. “Pretty sure it’s just this, then I’m all done.”

“Uh, I think there may have been a few other things that -”

“_Billionaire, _ Carlos.”

Any further objections were cut off by a faint, plaintive cry from the furthest corner of the rink. “_Je suis triste..._”

Erika gulped. “Peanut?”

A small, translucent shape uncurled itself, and turned to look at the two men and one ethereal being. “_Je suis triste_,” the ghost of Peanut the cat repeated quietly. “_Je suis mort..._”

Cecil snapped his fingers. “I _ knew _ that didn’t mean ‘great to see you’!”

“Uh… hi, Peanut,” Erika said, waving awkwardly. “How are you doing…?”

Peanut gave Erika a long stare, then pointedly turned his head away. “_Je suis mort._”

Erika’s multiple pairs of wings rustled awkwardly.

Carlos skated forward a little and crouched down to hold out the flask. Peanut backed away, ears flattened against his head.

“Hey, it’s okay. I brought you something.” Carlos tipped a few kibbles from the flask onto the ice. Peanut watched them, warily.

“...maybe we should back off a little,” Cecil suggested, sounding reluctant. “Erika, you too.”

Erika seemed about to argue, but thought better of it. The three of them moved back out onto the ice, trying to seem not to be watching as Peanut considered the food. Eventually, he took a few cautious steps forward and picked up a piece of kibble delicately in his teeth. He chewed cautiously for a moment – Carlos held his breath, and felt Cecil beside him doing the same – then began eating the rest of the food with much more enthusiasm.

Everyone exhaled, even Erika, who hadn’t needed to breathe in the first place.

Peanut finished the food, then looked over at the three of them and mewed, insistently.

“Erika.” Carlos handed them the tongs. “Go and give him the rest.”

* * *

“Soo, what did you two talk about?” Cecil asked, as the three of them left the building. “And why aren’t we bringing Peanut with us? It sounded like he really missed you.”

Erika sighed, closing some of their many eyes. “He did, but he’s also pretty mad at me for abandoning him. In my defence, it’s not like I did it on purpose! I just totally forgot I had a cat.”

“...that’s arguably much worse,” Carlos pointed out, but Erika didn’t seem to hear.

“And there’s also the whole tangibility issue. I can’t pet him or pick him up any more.”

“Oh, you _ can _ physically interact with ghosts!” Cecil said. “You just need to -”

“- no, _ you _ can. I can’t. Ghosts are less real than humans, but angels are much _ more _ real.” Cecil and Carlos both winced, but the angel acknowledgement sirens didn’t go off, since acknowledging the statement would have meant acknowledging the angel who’d said it. “It’s hard enough to even act as if you guys exist.”

Cecil nodded. “Oh, same. I mean, I’m never sure that I do.”

“You exist to me,” Carlos assured him, squeezing his arm gently.

“Aww, Carlos! You exist to me too.” Cecil turned back to Erika. “So you’re just going to… leave him here?”

“I ...guess? I mean, Teddy’s been looking after him okay so far, right?”

“Eeh...” Cecil rocked a hand back and forth, non-committally.

Erika sighed, their wings drooping. “I know this isn’t the best environment for him. I don’t want to ask Josie to take him in, though. She’s busy enough with the opera house.” They paused abruptly in mid-air, struck by a thought. “Unless _ you _guys -”

“Oh, I’m afraid not.” Cecil looked despondent. “I’d love to, and I’m sure Carlos would too, but he’s allergic. It was miserable for him when we were looking after Khoshekh, I can’t ask him to -”

“_Wait_.” Cecil and Erika both turned to look at Carlos, who had stopped in his tracks and gone wide-eyed with realisation. “Cecil, I’m not having any reaction! We were there with Peanut for long enough that I should at least be sniffling a little, but I’m not! My eyes aren’t watering… We’ll have to do more testing to confirm, of course, but it looks like I might only be allergic to _ corporeal _ cats!”

Cecil gave a squeal of delight.

* * *

There was plenty to do before bringing Peanut home, of course.

Carlos refined the food dematerialisation process. He and Cecil cat-proofed and ghost-proofed the house, moving breakable objects to inaccessible spots and plotting out the ley lines that ran through the building. Teddy Williams hadn’t been clear about whether Peanut would need a bed, or a litter box, but it seemed wise to provide both anyway. “He doesn’t technically even need to eat,” Carlos pointed out, “but since he _ does _, well...”

Finally, everything was ready. They drove to the Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, listening to one of the French Brainwashing tapes Cecil had dug out of the back of his closet on the way. (Carlos had screened the tapes before they listened together, to make sure they were as Cecil remembered and didn’t contain any disturbing surprises. He was a little surprised that they had been.)

Erika and Teddy were waiting by the skating rink when they arrived. “Thanks again, you guys,” Erika told them. “I owe you one. Any time you need angelic intervention, just dig a hole in your backyard and whisper your desires to the cool earth.”

Teddy sniffled. “I’m gonna miss the little guy.”

“We could bring him by to visit,” Carlos suggested. “Now and then. Right now, though, I’m just hoping he doesn’t mind being in the carrier too much.”

“The lightning jumping between the two antennae might be a _ little _ offputting,” Cecil commented, frowning.

“That’s what I thought, but it’s important for science. I had to make a carrier we could contain a ghost in.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Erika said, sounding unsure.

It turned out not to be fine. Peanut hissed at the carrier, arching his back and flattening his ears. His spectral hair stood on end, tiny orbs of ball lightning dancing through it. "_Je ne vais pas entrer dans votre boîte effrayante!" _

“I put your favourite treats in here, see?” Carlos said hopefully, pointing out the pile of translucent dried fish pieces behind the shimmering containment field. “Uh, _ bon _ … _ aliments_?”

Peanut only hissed more, tendrils of black smoke beginning to drift from around his eyes. Carlos and Cecil glanced at each other.

“Teddy, could you get rid of this?” Carlos asked, handing Teddy the carrier. After a moment’s thought, he removed the treats from inside it. “And maybe you and Erika… maybe just give us some space for a while?”

The man and the angel retreated. Carlos sat down cross-legged on the ice, and Cecil joined him. Peanut watched them both warily, his tail lashing.

Carlos put one of the treats down on the ice, and gently slid it across to where Peanut crouched. The ghostly cat sniffed at it warily, then snapped it up, apparently satisfied that it wasn’t a trap. Carlos sent another one over, this time adjusting the force of his slide so that it stopped a little nearer to him and Cecil.

Peanut took a small step forward to get it, then stopped. He looked up at Carlos, teeth bared. "_Je ne veux pas entrer dans votre boîte." _

Carlos still hadn’t picked up much French, but he took a scientifically educated guess. “We won’t make you go in the box if you don’t want to.”

“It was a pretty scary box,” Cecil acknowledged. He held out his hand for a piece of fish, and Carlos handed him one which he then slid to Peanut across the ice. “I don’t blame you.”

Peanut picked up Cecil’s treat, chewed it thoughtfully, then, after a few moments, took the tiny step forward to get the one Carlos had offered as well.

“If you don’t want to come with us at all, we’ll understand,” Carlos told him. “You don’t want to go to a strange, new place, right? You don’t want to leave behind whatever’s familiar, even if it’s not where you want to be… Maybe I’m wrong. I am a scientist. I understand facts, and numbers. I don’t always understand people, and feelings, but… if that’s how you feel, then I do understand. I felt that way once, too.”

Peanut tilted his head to one side, making a soft questioning sound.

“Uh...” Carlos belatedly realised the flaw in his approach. “Did you understand any of that? _ Vous… comprenez…_?”

Peanut looked steadily at him. "_Plus ou moins." _

“G- _ bon. Pardonnez-moi. J’ai… _ I’m not great with French yet.”

Cecil picked up a few more fish treats, and tossed one to Peanut, who watched as it rolled across the ice and came to a stop. He lifted a paw to his mouth and licked it delicately.

“I bet…,” Cecil said, slowly, “...you miss Marcus, too. Don’t you?”

Peanut’s ears went back again, and his tail lashed. He didn’t reply.

“It’s okay to feel conflicted about him. You can still love him, even though he wasn’t good at taking care of you. You don’t have to, but you can.”

Silence, for a while. Peanut’s tail flicked back and forth.

Carlos moved to stand up. “Maybe we should try this again another day. But, Peanut, if you decide you don’t want to live with us, that’s fine too. You can stay here, or we can figure out something else -”

Peanut mewed loudly, startling Carlos into silence. He stood up and padded determinedly across the ice to the still-seated Cecil, climbing into his lap.

_ "J'irai avec vous. Je ne veux pas rester dans cet endroit humide et froid avec cet imbécile qui croit pouvoir parler russe. Mais je ne vais pas entrer dans cette boîte." _

“Uh, Cecil?” Carlos asked. “Did you get that?”

Cecil nodded, teary-eyed. “He says he’ll come with us.”

* * *

He ended up riding home on Cecil’s lap. Carlos drove, sneaking fond glances at the two of them whenever he could. Cecil talked softly to Peanut the whole way, in a quieter version of his Radio Voice, the tone he sometimes used to soothe Carlos to sleep on nights when his brain fizzed too much with new scientific ideas or old anxieties to rest. Peanut gradually curled himself up as he listened, drifting into a doze.

By the time they got home, he was fast asleep, posing a problem for Cecil, who couldn’t bear to disturb him by standing up.

“Won’t you just pass right through him?” Carlos asked.

“That would be rude, Carlos! We may have adopted him, but we don’t know each other _ that _ well yet.”

“Okay, how about...” Carlos knelt down beside the car, “if I just sort of… ease him into my hands here...”

Peanut stirred a little as they transferred him, causing both men to freeze for a good few minutes, but he settled down again and eventually Carlos stood up, cradling a sleeping cat in his arms. He carried Peanut into the house, setting him down gently in his new cat bed.

Cecil put an arm around Carlos’ waist. They both watched the new addition to their household sleeping soundly for a moment, his legs twitching softly.

“Awwwwwww.” Cecil beamed. “Carlos, look, he’s dreaming. I bet you’re dreaming you’re one of the feline overlords of earth, aren’t you, little fuzzy guy?”

Peanut’s ears twitched, and he gave a soft mew before beginning to snore quietly. Cecil pressed his hands over his mouth to cover a squeak. “omgsocute.”

“Empirically the cutest thing _ ever_,” Carlos agreed.

* * *

Things weren’t perfect right away. But then, they never are.

Time doesn’t work in Night Vale. In theory, Cecil’s show was the evening show, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to wish the town a good night only to walk out into the glow and screams of sunrise. And Carlos pretty much made his own hours, though he was getting better about sticking to a schedule that gave him equal time with science and with Cecil, the two loves of his life.

So it was nearly a week before both of them were out at the same time.

Carlos had made sure to refill Peanut’s food and water bowls before he left. Peanut had twined around and occasionally through his legs as he opened the door, mewing "_Où allez-vous?" _

_ "Pour mon travail. Je reviens vite," _Carlos had told him, bending down to scratch behind his ears.

Peanut had seemed to accept this, but when Cecil got home two hours later, he found the food untouched and Peanut nowhere to be seen. With a growing sense of dread, he checked through every room in the house – the kitchen, the basement, the bloodstone ritual room…

...until only his and Carlos’ bedroom was left. Heart in his throat (metaphorically, for now) he opened the door.

He sagged in relief. “Oh, masters of us all, _ there _ you are – Peanut, what did you do to the bed?”

Peanut hissed, standing just clear of the pool of ectoplasm that covered the sheets. “_Je suis triste!_ _Vous êtes partis - vous deux!_"

“...oh. I see.” Cecil sighed, sitting down on an un-sticky corner of the bed. “I’m sorry. Sometimes we have to go out.”

“_Je suis triste. Je suis mort._”

“I know. And I promise, we won’t let you be abandoned again. We’ll always come back."

Peanut tilted his head, nose wrinkling in a cynical frown.

“...we’ll always try to come back,” Cecil admitted, since Peanut was clearly well aware of the general uncertainty of life in Night Vale. “And if anything did happen to us, my sister Abby and her husband would take you in. I already asked them."

Peanut’s tail drooped. "_Je ne veux pas être seul._"

“Maybe… maybe I could talk to Station Management. They’ve been in a good mood lately. I think. The light from their office is glowing more puce than usual, anyway… they might say you can come into work with me sometimes. We do already have a station cat, after all.”

Peanut mulled this over, his tail lashing slowly from side to side.

Cecil held out a hand, in offering and apology. After a moment, Peanut stepped carefully over and rubbed his head against it, in forgiveness.

The sheets came clean eventually. Station Management agreed to let Peanut come in to the studio occasionally, although Cecil thought it best to keep him away from the door to their office. And Carlos, when he could, was happy to bring Peanut to the lab with him, where Nilanjana and Mark fussed over him and Luisa gave him a brief, vaguely interested greeting before turning back to her potatoes.

* * *

And one day, months later, as Carlos was preparing vegan omelettes for himself and Cecil, he felt an unearthly chill around his ankles and looked down to see Peanut twining himself around them.

He smiled. "_Hé, minou. Voulez-vous quelque chose?_"

Peanut rubbed his face against Carlos’ leg. “_Je t’aime bien_.”

Carlos froze, spatula held in mid-air. “Peanut?”

“_Je suis mort_. _ Mais je ne suis pas triste. Je t’aime bien, Carlos_.”

Carlos blinked away tears. “_Je t’aime bien, Peanut. _” He crouched to scritch behind Peanut’s ears, and Peanut leaned into the touch, purring softly.

“..._je veux une omelette._"

Carlos laughed, standing up again. “Sorry, they’re not for you. Here.” He threw down a translucent fish treat, and Peanut contentedly munched on it while Carlos re-washed his hands.

And if things weren’t perfect then, they were imperfect in just the right way.

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at writing fluff ended up being fluff with a lot of bittersweetness... but it still counts, right? And I know Cecil and Carlos have adopted a pet in canon now, but they hadn't when I started writing this...
> 
> Thanks to my dad for helping with French translations! If you speak French and see any mistakes, please let me know so I can edit. Here's what Peanut's saying, for the curious:
> 
> Je suis triste = I am sad.  
Je suis mort = I am dead. (these two are canon)  
Je ne vais pas entrer dans votre boîte effrayante! = I'm not going in your scary box!  
Je ne veux pas entrer dans votre boîte. = I don't want to go in your box.  
Plus ou moins. = More or less.  
J'irai avec vous. Je ne veux pas rester dans cet endroit humide et froid avec cet imbécile qui croit pouvoir parler russe. Mais je ne vais pas entrer dans cette boîte. = I’ll go with you. I don’t want to stay in this cold wet place with the loud idiot who thinks he can speak Russian. But I’m not getting into that box.  
Où allez-vous? = Where are you going?  
(Carlos: Pour mon travail. Je reviens vite. = To work. I'll be back soon.)  
Vous êtes partis - vous deux! = You left! Both of you!  
Je ne veux pas être seul. = I don't want to be alone.  
(Carlos: Hé, minou. Voulez-vous quelque chose? = Hey, kitty. Do you want something?)  
Je t’aime bien. = I love you. (the 'bien' means it's platonically. at least I hope so.)  
Je suis mort. Mais je ne suis pas triste. Je t’aime bien, Carlos. = I'm dead. But I'm not sad. I love you, Carlos.  
Je veux une omelette = I want some omelette.


End file.
